


An Errant Pupil

by When_Rivers_Run_Red



Category: Hellsing
Genre: And oral sex, Drama, F/M, I’m doing some editing lol, Jealousy, Master/Servant, New chapter one btw, Now with a dash of gun play, Pining, Power Play, Pre Canon, Rough Sex, Shadow Tentacle Action, Some gore now, Surprise! There’s a plot, There shall continue to be plot tbh, There’s growing angst, canon typical stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2020-10-17 23:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20629397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/When_Rivers_Run_Red/pseuds/When_Rivers_Run_Red
Summary: Integra’s started making a habit of overlooking Alucard in favor of others, despite the fact that she’s asked him to teach her more about vampires and hunting them.When she misses yet another scheduled lesson, he finds other ways to get her attention. But it isn’t enough.





	1. Chapter 1

“That was against the rules,” Alucard said lightly, looking at the dagger she’d just sank into his chest. 

“There are no rules out in the field.” Integra replied; she always enjoyed throwing his own words back at him. It was daylight, and the sun was shining brilliantly against her hair. Despite the beauty of it all, it was also giving him a headache. 

Their lessons were quick and often brutal. He’d try to outsmart her or overpower her, and she would look for any way she could to put him back in his place. 

They fenced today, out in the gardens and without protective gear because he never allowed it. “You would not have that luxury out in the field,” he’d argue. The very first time he’d told her this, she’d muttered something about the likelihood of any vampires coming at her with a saber in the first place. But regardless, she indulged him on that front, eager to beat him at his own game. 

She never had, however. Not at fencing anyway and apparently she’d gotten tired of losing every time. 

He hadn’t seen this particular dagger in her possession before, but it was clearly solid silver. The damn thing actually hurt. His breath was coming short. 

Integra merely smiled in response and twisted it in deeper. 

The blade scraped bone and the sudden, unexpected jolt of pain brought him to his knees. She followed him down in the grass, unwilling to let go of her weapon. “I’ve won,” she said impatiently. “Get up.”

He bit his lip, closing his eyes on the pain overwhelming his senses. It was difficult to concentrate on anything else, even his lovely, ruthless Master. 

“ _ Alucard _ .” There was a very sharp edge to her voice, but her heart was beating quickly. He could practically taste the adrenaline running through her veins. He realized that she liked this.

“Ah but Integra, out in the field there is no victory without death.” His eyes opened, and he knew how they gleamed.“Or would you expect sportsmanship from a rogue vampire?”

“Fine,” she said, raising her chin. A faint summer breeze stirred her hair. “Am I to kill you then?”

“You may try. Cut into me,” he taunted, laughing breathlessly. “Gut me like a fish.”

And she did, cruel thing that she was. She plunged that blade in deeper, with a strength and confidence he hadn’t been expecting from her. The new burst of pain left him slumped against her. His blood was soiling her gloves, her pristine white blouse. 

“Destroy the heart, Integra. That is how you end a vampire.”

“I  _ know _ that,” she replied exasperation creeping into her voice.

“And yet you hesitate!” This time his laugh was cut off by her renewed efforts. She struggled to pull the blade out of him, from where it was lodged between his ribs. She grappled with it before sinking it into his chest again. Stabbing blindly over where she thought his heart may be. He stilled, both to let her work, and to savor the unique misery that was silver.

“Destroy it,” he choked out, baring his teeth in a feral grin. 

She gave him one long look, her bright eyes unreadable. Perhaps it was a challenge. Perhaps she was waiting for him to laugh and say he was joking. But whatever it was that she meant by that look, shortly after, she did as he bade her. 

In the times Alucard’s heart had been destroyed, it was never very painful. There simply were not any nerve endings on the heart, though that was a fact that he often regretted. 

Instead he only felt a final shock going through him, leaving nothing but unfeeling numbness in its wake. His consciousness faded quickly afterwards, his vision going hazy grey as his body mimicked death for the time it took to knit itself back together. To an outsider, it truly would look like death for a few moments. And he registered the first flash of fear on Integra’s face, just before he completely succumbed. 

When he came to it was to her shaking him by the lapels. “Damn it stop  _ playing _ with me,” she was saying through gritted teeth. 

He was too exhausted to do much more than smile, and even that was a struggle. In true battle he would come to much more easily, but the seals detected no threat from her and therefore most of his strength and powers were inaccessible to him. 

His vision slowly came back into focus. She seemed frantic, somewhere between anger and panic. She wore it well. “You needn’t worry yourself about  _ me _ , Master,” he said in his most lilting tones, though his voice still wavered a little. 

She huffed, quickly moving away. “I’m not.”

“Of course you’re not,” he replied with the utmost fondness, even as his blood was still dripping from her hands. 

___

Late at night, Alucard was out on a hunt when he sensed something: Integra had brought a stranger home. 

It was a strange occurrence both because Integra hardly showed any interest in socializing and because they were meant to have a lesson once he returned. They met days and nights as her schedule allowed. As of late, it hardly allowed for him to see her at all. 

Although he was many miles away, his senses were always honed on Hellsing, it didn’t matter where he was himself. He could hear them approaching the manor, but from the back of the property. It was a poor attempt at sneaking into the guest house, he realized. She was giggling, possibly tipsy. 

Alucard turned his attention back to his target, a third rate vampire that hardly warranted his intervention at all. Any human soldier could have dispatched it easily. It was almost insulting, but he’d appreciated the diversion at first. Now, he just wanted to silence the thing and be done with it. 

He made hasty work of the kill, rushing back to see what his Master was up to. By the time he returned, lurking in the shadows, Walter had already caught on to the disturbance. It seemed she hadn’t told anyone about these change of plans Perhaps it had been a spontaneous decision. 

Alucard watched them be mistaken for intruders. Watched her blush and try to look unaffected while she told Walter that everything was fine. That she was just showing her… friend… the guest house and hadn’t wanted to disturb anyone. It was a mystery why she felt the need to lie— and they were plain lies. 

Alucard wondered if she was angry with him for the last time. Or perhaps she wanted to spend more time with someone else. Both thoughts only served to twist the knife in further, unpleasant in a way that a real blade to the heart would never be. He grimaced, baring his teeth while he watched her be distracted, his presence obscured by shadows. He did not linger long.

She seemed to have forgotten about meeting him entirely. Or she was avoiding him. The night passed and he did not hear from her. The next day, he waited to see if she would acknowledge anything. She did not, she appeared to be too busy planning another obligatory event or another. And his pride did not permit him to ask. 


	2. Chapter 2

Integra hated parties. 

Although, she hosted them anyway. It was good to keep connections among her peers, or rather… her peers’ children. It put her at an awkward generational position, having to inherit her father’s organization so young. 

While she already had her career, they on the other hand, would eventually age into power and it was always good to scope out the people she’d have to work with in the future and to be friendly with them. That was the plan anyway. 

Currently she was hiding up in an attic room while everyone downstairs was getting very, _very_ drunk. She had a house full of teenage drunken idiots and she could hardly remember their names. She sat miserably, looking out the window, her third gimlet in hand. Her cigars were in the pocket of her coat downstairs, she wished now she hadn’t left them. Her drink was also most of the way gone, she’d have to brave her way back to the party soon for more. Although she was half tempted to doze off just there, Walter would surely see the guests out. Whenever they left. 

The tipsy haze immediately faded however, when she felt the room grow colder, raising gooseflesh on her arms. She sighed, downed the last of her drink, and set it aside. 

“Alucard,” she said quietly, by way of greeting. She’d told herself that his tricks no longer unsettled her, but for the moment she was only telling herself that. It didn’t have much to do with reality. 

“Master.” 

She rose to her feet, mindful of the long skirt of her dress. “What are you doing up here?”

He grinned. “Fetching an errant pupil. You’re missing a lesson.”

She was about to wave him off, but he continued. “You asked me to teach you. How can I do that when you never show up?”

She laughed. “I thought you’d appreciate the break. Anyway, I have to make time for these things. It isn’t as if my schedule is ever open.”

He tilted his head, and that was when she first noticed the vaguely off kilter energy he had that night. “Yes, these very important things. Last time you were with a boy. What’s the reason now?” 

She blushed at the mention of ‘last time’. She’d taken a date back to the seldom used guest house of the manor for some privacy. In retrospect she should’ve informed Walter she would be using it, but she hadn’t. And they’d been mistaken for intruders. The entire ordeal had been mortifying. Of course he’d bring it up to embarrass her. “I’m not _that_ late. This won’t last for another few hours anyway,” she snapped. “It isn’t like you have anything else to do.” 

“You might’ve told me. Instead, you make me wait. It seems my Master does not value my time.”

“No I don’t,” she said flippantly. “Time is the one thing you have a grossly ridiculous amount of.”

He seemed unperturbed. “You still haven’t given me a reason. 

“Clearly I have guests.”

He made a show of looking around, at the empty attic room. Populated with exactly nothing but old wooden chests. “Not at the moment, it seems. Perfect timing! I have a lesson for you.” There was a strange edge to his voice. 

“What is it?” she said tentatively. 

“Let me show you.” He strode up to her, far too close. With a quick movement he flipped her around to face the window again, an arm snaking around her waist. 

“This is a lesson?” she said incredulously. Already her heart was beating hard. She couldn’t remember ever being this close to him before. 

“Oh, yes.” His hand went straight to her chin, tilting it up, baring her neck. He nosed along her main artery. 

“What are you doing?”

“The lesson is, never trust a vampire so close.”

“But I wouldn’t—”

“You let _me_ this close. That was a mistake. So now, what would you do to escape? You have no weapon and I’m in very close range.”

“But this would never happen,” she said with forced calmness, trying to wrestle down the sudden apprehension. This was Alucard, there wasn’t anyone else in the world she could trust as implicitly. 

“And yet it did, my sweet Master.” His tone sent shivers down her spine. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was the tipsy one. His attentions seemed almost… amorous. 

“I don’t see where vampire hunting comes into this,” she said haughtily. 

“You’re so eager to leave. Is there another boy waiting for you downstairs? Among the weak useless creatures you waste your time with? Or perhaps even the same one? I never did get a good look at him.”

“You’re being ridiculous. ”

She attempted to turn to get a better look at his face, but only managed to press up closer to him. He was hard. 

She bit her lip at this new development. It was almost unsettling to think he had such human desires. He’d never done anything like this before, but hadn’t she suspected that he wanted her? 

There had always been the subtle flirtations. He’d exaggeratedly leer at her sometimes, go on and on about his beautiful, wonderful, alluring Master. There had always been the innuendo. He’d kiss her gloved hands if she let him. But never _this_. 

“This is _not_ a lesson.”

He pressed his lips to her throat. “But it is.”

Of course she could tell him to go any time she liked. But she knew she wouldn’t. It was a game. He was testing her boundaries, daring her to be outraged. To punish him. She refused to let him get a rise out of her. And also… she was very curious to see where this could go. 

When it was clear she was not intending to act, one way or the other, his fingers moved to deftly unbutton the front of her dress, baring a simple white bra. He tore it off her with equal ease, nearly severing the straps. 

She stifled a gasp against the sudden exposure, deeply aware of the fact that they were standing right in front of an open window. At least it was mostly shrouded by trees, and if anyone saw, they likely wouldn’t be sober enough to remember it the following day. Still she had to fight the urge to cover her breasts.

As if in response to her thoughts, the lights in the room flickered off, plunging them in darkness. “Now, no one can see you. And _I_ won’t look because I’m a gentleman” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. One hand came up to squeeze her breast. She could feel heat pooling inside her core. 

“I appreciate you protecting my modesty.” She replied breathless but still wry. 

“You asked me to teach you everything I know. This is what I know.” He rocked his hips against hers for emphasis. One hand travelled up her thighs, snuck under her skirt and higher still to pull aside her panties. She was suddenly glad she’d opted for stockings instead of tights. The first touch of his gloved fingertips against her bare skin made her gasp. 

Somehow she’d never expected it happening like this. Oh yes she’d expected something happening between them; she’d imagined it. All the little flirtations would eventually lead somewhere, wouldn’t they? But this was so tawdry. So unexpected. 

“Would you like me to wine and dine you instead?” He said, and there was laughter in his voice. 

It was a struggle to think with all the unfamiliar ways he was touching her but after a moment she said, “I think you’re jealous.”

She was about to turn to look at him but then he pushed her roughly up against the wall. Her arms braced against it. 

“You _are_.”

His arms tightened around her. And he began kissing her neck, her shoulder. She laughed, although the cold touch of his lips robbed the certainty from her voice. 

His shadows rose up through the floor, climbing her legs. Smooth and strange and not exactly there against her skin. They wrapped around her calves, trailing their cold touch over her thighs, and higher still to join his ministrations. She gasped, and he seemed to like that. They shredded her panties. 

“Perhaps,” he said at at last, removing his hand to wrap it back around her waist. 

She yelped at the slick unsettling feeling of the tendrils stroking her, creeping _inside_ her. It was cold and vaguely unpleasant (she knew that was deliberate) but even so a moan was building up in her throat. 

“What did you do with him?”

“Excuse me?” She said, throwing him a half hearted glare. 

“That boy. Did he put his hands on you? Did he make you come? Satisfy my curiosity Master.” They began moving in and out of her in earnest now. She was almost beginning to enjoy the clammy, alien feeling of it. He still had her pinned in place, his body flush against hers. Her knees were going weak. 

She laughed breathlessly. “Why, are you trying to compete?”

“I don’t need to.” He rocked his hips against her. The sharp jut of his arousal against her backside impossible to mistake. “There is no competition.”

“Someone’s sure of himself.”

“Perhaps.” He rocked his hips again, in time with the shadow strokes. He reached down, and raised her skirt. When he next moved against her she jolted at the feeling of bare skin on skin. She hadn’t noticed him undress. 

He moved against her, faster. Harder. She was overwhelmed by sensation, the shadows fucking her, the way he ground his erection against her, his hands roaming her body. She pressed her forehead against the wall, closing her eyes. 

As the pressure built higher and higher it was almost too much, it was almost unpleasant and she tried to squirm away until she was suddenly sent tumbling over the edge all at once. Her entire body sent shuddering, muscles spasming rhythmically while he kept going, unrelenting until she felt limp, boneless in his arm. If left to her own devices she would’ve slid down to the floor, but the way he had her pinned didn’t allow for that. 

His fingers dug into her skin as he held her tighter. It would bruise later. She listened to the various strained sounds he made, oddly mesmerized by his pleasure. She noticed more now that her mind was not clouded with lust. 

The result of his climax was shockingly cold to her. She glanced down a moment before he let her skirt fall back into place and the liquid dripping down her thighs was not quite blood, but similar enough. She vaguely remembered learning something like that about vampire physiology, but it was still jarring to see. He stepped aside, and the shadows dissipated. 

She swallowed, finally turning to face him, her head held high. He was straightening his clothes, somehow looking just as astonished as she felt. 

“Master I—“ but he broke off. Seemingly at a loss for words. 

“I kissed him.”

“What?” he responded, uncomprehending. 

“You asked what I did with him. I kissed him. That’s it.” 

“Oh.”

And suddenly, she was laughing. “You overjealous  _ child _ . What was this, you were marking your territory?” 

“No I—”

“Should I expect this sort of response every time I so much as look at someone else?”

He was obviously mortified. Apparently whatever had fueled this little tirade was fading, leaving him his usual submissiveness. 

She stepped out of his reach. “That’s enough,” she said sternly. “I have to go. Clean up here and… get rid of my torn up undergarments up in the attic. I don’t want anyone finding those on accident.”

“Of course.”

She began buttoning up the front of her dress. “And we’re not finished here. I expect to see you after everyone’s left. We  _ are _ discussing this.”

“Yes, Master,” he said lowering his head in deference. 

She rolled her eyes at the display, and turned to leave. “Until then. ”


	3. Chapter 3

She returned to the party but had trouble concentrating on it. Alucard could see her distraction in every polite gesture and stilted conversation. She did not want to be there. At least he preferred to think so, as he lurked in the shadows, following her every move. 

He wondered what she was thinking, in her long silences and the thoughtful glances. He watched her as the night winded on, but didn’t dare approach. Frankly, he didn’t _ want _ to.

He knew he’d have to see her later on, she’d ordered him to do so. But he was dreading the encounter. Would she laugh at him again? He reveled in her laugh. He loved her coldness. But he also cringed away from the thought. 

There were the two sides of him. The one that enjoyed drawing her ire, and the other that could not stand the humiliation of it. 

He watched her every interaction with rapt attention, desperate to see if that human boy of hers was present. 

It shouldn’t matter to him. He was her servant. A glorified dog. But it mattered. Gnawing jealousy aside, he was almost insulted that she’d turned to anyone else. Hadn’t he always been an excellent teacher? And he could still teach her far more. 

She was his master. He should not dare think such things. Act on such whims. He should be grateful that she put up with him at all. He dug his nails into the palm of his hands and forced himself to tear his gaze away. 

The hours stretched on, painfully slow. He wasn’t sure if he was glad for it. But finally those guests of hers left, little by little. 

He went to her by the time the manor had settled down for the night, and all was blessedly silent. He’d put it off for as long as he could get away with. But he knew he had to face her eventually. She was waiting in her room seated at the foot of the bed.

Integra had not yet changed, but her hair was no longer as sleek. Her glasses were off, and she was smoking. The cloying sweet scent of cigar smoke filled the room. She did not look happy. She’d notice him watching any moment now. 

Finally, he mustered up the courage to appear before her. Her eyes fixed on him but she did not betray whatever her reaction was. 

“On your knees,” she intoned. 

He wasted no time obeying.

Somehow that didn’t seem to be the response she wanted. Her gaze grew unforgiving. “Do you have an explanation?”

“I— well, Master… I didn’t….”

“So you can’t explain yourself.” 

“No.”

“Then Let me explain for you,” she said crisply. “You were jealous, and you were angry, and you forgot your place.”

He hung his head. “Yes, Master.”

She exhaled a cloud of smoke. “To be clear I may have indulged you, but you have no right to my attentions.” 

“Of course.”

“And this is not an order, because you should know better than to put your hands on me in any circumstances.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Do you think you deserve punishment?”

“Yes.”

She laughed. “So obedient all of a sudden. Where is that willfulness?”

“I’m sorry, Master.”

“Of course you are,” she drawled. 

“Please. Let me make amends. It shouldn’t have been…” He looked away. “Like that.”

“Oh? And what _ should _ it have been like?” 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, helplessly. 

She put out the half spent cigar and strode over to him. He felt something surprisingly like anxiety stir within him at her every step. She twisted a hand in his hair and pulled so that he had to look up at her. 

“You are not. You’re embarrassed. You’re sorry you have to look me in the eye now and take responsibility for your actions.” 

His breath came quickly at her tone of voice. He’d never seen anything so glorious as his master angry with him before. 

She rolled her eyes at the poorly concealed excitement on his face and stepped away to light another cigar. “I’d tell you to take silver to the hands that touched me but you’d enjoy that too much.” She inhaled, breathed out more smoke. The quirk of her lip was wry. “And I _ did _indulge you enough already.” 

His gaze clung to her as she turned to retrieve her gun, silver of course. “But I also can’t let this go unaddressed. I have my own lesson for you now, vampire.” She turned around to see he was standing right before her. 

“I didn’t tell you to stand.”

He sank down slowly, never breaking eye contact. His pupils dilated as she twisted a hand in his hair again. This time she pulled until he bared his throat to her. She leaned so that they were close, so that he could feel her breath on his face. She reached up and stroked his cheek with the barrel of the gun. He hissed as it left a burning trail on his skin. It healed far too quickly.

“Tell me what I’m punishing you for.” She put the gun at his throat. 

He groaned. “For daring to touch you, my Master. For focusing my disgusting desires on you. It is defilement.” 

Her heart was pounding. The sound of it had him heady with mingling lusts. She pressed the gun deeper into his throat. It was beginning to smoke and sizzle. “Oh? And what are those desires?”

“Just about anything, everything. Awful fantasies.”

“Tell me,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Is this a confessional?” 

“It is.”

“I thought that was only a catholic sacrament. You cannot absolve me of my sins.”

“No. But I can punish you for them.” She withdrew the gun. Before he was able to feel either relief or disappointment it was back to his cheekbone. He leaned into the caress even as it burned him. “What are these fantasies of yours? Are they about me?”

He spoke slowly, deliberately, all the while unsure if he wanted to goad her or scare her away. “I dream about fucking you until you cry. I fantasize about taking your virginity, and making it hurt so I can lick the blood away. I dream about you taking me into the old labs and cutting into me. That you chain me back up in my cell and fuck me while I’m helpless. I dream that you rip out my heart and make me eat it for ever daring to think of you. I dream of kissing you. I want to hold you.”

She was young and inexperienced and didn’t know what to make of this. He could see that confusion, the sudden and subtle crack in her cool facade. Even so, somehow he doubted many other people would know what to make of him either. 

“That is quite the list,” she said at last. “You’re twisted. You’re wicked.”

“It isn’t even the half of it.” That was the truth. 

“Shall I punish you now?” She rested the edge of the barrel lightly against his lip. 

“Yes,” he breathed. He ran his tongue along the side of the barrel, tasting the metallic bitterness of it. She clicked off the safety, and just about moaned. He parted his lips for it, and she pressed it inside his mouth, to the back of his throat. He closed his eyes, ready for the shot, and the sudden, acute pain. 

Then she pulled the gun away. 

“But Master—” 

“I’m not _ rewarding _ you for being a nuisance.”

He looked at her confused. 

“That’s what you want isn’t it? My anger?”

“_ Yes _.”

“Well.” She smirked. “I’m sorry to disappoint..” 

He took a trembling breath. 

She unloaded the gun and set it aside. “Be honest with me. How much of this is real and how much of it a game?”

“All too real,” he said quickly, reaching out to grip the hem of her dress before she could move away. “I covet, Master. I’ve committed the cardinal sin of wanting that which is farthest from my reach.”

She sighed. “You’re ridiculous.”

He lowered his face to the floor. “Let me beg for forgiveness.”

Again, he sensed her uncertainty. She was considering how strange it really was to live like this, to be so young and have an ancient thing prostrated on the floor before her. “How do you intend to beg?” she asked, voice a little shaky.

“Is that an invitation?”

She did not respond, so he kissed the hem of her dress, before moving to her feet. Her breath caught and he took that as encouragement to travel up, to her ankles, her calves. He rested his head against her thigh, the soft silk of her dress brushing against his cheek.

“My dear Master,” he crooned. When she didn’t push him away, he moved a hand to lift her skirt and reached under it. Caressing her legs. “Let me make up for my behavior.”

He pushed her skirt up further, baring deliciously smooth skin. He ran his tongue over her thighs, and up higher and higher. She was breathing hard by then, biting her lip on the softest sounds. He paused, mouth positioned just above her sex, to see if she’d draw him to her or push him away. 

She did neither, even as his cold breath teased her. Even as he could practically taste her impatience. 

After several beats, he leaned in. His tongue traced her entrance, he pressed open mouthed kisses against her. “Let me show you how I pay my penance,” he breathed against her skin. She shivered at the voice in her head. His tongue found her clit, lapped at it. Sucked. His pace was leisurely. Appreciative. 

When her legs gave way, he guided her to the floor, hooking her legs over his shoulders. And she let him. 

This was somehow more intense, more personal. How they lay tangled on the floor, his cold mouth on her fevered flesh. She was writhing on the floor, her hair slowly coming loose from its careful updo. 

She moaned, finally clutching at his hair. Her climax was slow and he drew it out for as long as he could. He was almost sad that she finished so soon. He would’ve liked more. Seeing her so overwhelmed was tantalizing. 

Her body was still trembling when he moved to wrap his arms around her. He buried his face in her shoulder 

She was debating whether to push him away. He could tell. But for the moment she lay still. 

“Master.”

“What am I going to do with you?” The tenderness in her voice surprised him. 

He lifted his head to kiss her jaw. “Tell me you’ve never considered other facets of servitude.” His voice was strangely pleading, even to his own ears. 

She looked away, blushing. 

“You _ have _.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“You don’t have to turn to strangers, Master,” he continued in a rush. “I’ll want what you want. I can be anything. Do anything.”

“It’s unnatural.”

He scoffed. “What exactly in our relationship would you say is natural?”

She was quiet for a long time, staring at the ceiling.

“I serve you. Let me serve you,” he pleaded, pressing kisses to her neck. 

She tensed suddenly. Perhaps she remembered what it was that was kissing her. Perhaps she noticed that his body was icy cold. Closer to a corpse than any living creature.

When she spoke there was an edge to her voice. “I’ve taken your lesson to heart. You told me my mistake was in letting a vampire get so close. It isn’t a mistake I’ll be making again.”

“Integra, consider—“

She looked at him with a half smile, as if that would soften it. “You’re willful. You disobey me. I’m not giving you more free reign.”

He sighed and pressed his face into her shoulder again. “Yes, Master.” He hadn’t expected more, truthfully. Hadn’t dared to. 

She chanced another touch, trailing her fingers through his hair. It rose to her touch with a life of its own. “Why now?” she asked, so low he almost thought she was speaking to herself. 

“What?”

“After all this time, why now?”

“You were right, I was jealous.”

She moved to sit up and he shifted to let her. Her hair was half loose now and it spilled over them both. When she turned to him her gaze was shrewd. “Why did it have to take jealousy for you to say anything?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. 

“Well?”

“You ignored me,” he said simply. 

She sighed, again seeming disappointed. “Enough of this. Go. This didn’t happen.”


	4. Chapter 4

And so Alucard left. Just as she’d asked. Well mostly. He could not help letting a piece of himself remain, gazing at her through the full length mirror she kept in her room. He needed to see how she’d react. 

And it was gratifying to witness the icy composure melt away from her once she thought she was alone . She lay there on the floor several minutes longer, staring up at the ceiling. She covered her mouth to stifle breathless laughter. 

She sat up. Smoothing the fabric of her skirt, shoulders still shaking with mirth . 

She glanced at the mirror then but did not seem to notice his presence. Regardless, he did not mean to press his luck any further and quickly retreated back to himself. The image of her, wild hair and flushed cheeks refused to leave him though. 

Alucard could hardly face her after that. 

She had quietly asked Walter to take up her training instead. “I’ve learned enough from Alucard,” she had said with a smirk that Walter thankfully did not understand. 

He’d never wanted more for the ground to swallow him up. 

So he avoided her as much as he could, and when he did see her it was only when she had summoned him to her. He could never disobey her direct order. But it was more difficult when she hadn’t ordered him at all. 

While seeing her was humiliating it was also so difficult to keep away. That last encounter had opened up a well of wanting inside of him. So even though he dared not approach her, he found himself watching her more and more. Her lurked within her mirrors and the shadows that seemed to shroud every room in Hellsing. He watched her and he fought the urge to throw himself on the floor before her, and tearing at his own flesh and bone in penance. 

It’d be easier if he believed she were angry with him. But she wasn’t even that. She simply didn’t care. She was continuing her dalliances as if nothing had happened. And it was maddening, he was so used to being first in his master’s attentions. 

He was knelt at her feet, hands clenched to keep from touching her. Integra was on her way out. And he just knew it was to see a lover. Perhaps that same pathetic boy? he didn’t know who it was, but he was certain about why she was leaving. 

She’d been absent lately, leaving on frequent trips, spending her weekends elsewhere. And each time before she left, he noticed she took far more care with her appearance. 

“Did you hear a single thing I said?”

His gaze shifted away from her lips back to her eyes. “Yes of course.” He regretted never having kissed her. (She’d been right, he was not sorry. Ashamed perhaps. But never sorry) 

She shook her head looking unconvinced. “Just don’t destroy anything you aren’t supposed to while I’m gone.”

He laughed at that. “You have my word.” 

He tried to maintain that humor up until she left, although it was everything he could do not to hold her back. 

And then she was gone. He dared not watch her once she left the estate. He had crossed enough lines as it were. Even though it was maddening, wondering what she was doing every moment of her absences. 

And his imagination was so _ much _more vivid now, knowing the exact sound of her moans, and the exact way her cheeks flushed following an orgasm 

All through the weekend he imagined her, naked in a stranger's bed, hair fanned out on the pillow. He imagined her sultry eyes gazing at her lover as she slowly lit a cigar. He imagined himself in her mystery lover’s place. Sinking his cock into her inviting heat. He imagined making her moan in pleasure. 

But that was all just nonsense. She was still the Iron Maiden. His Master. He belonged to her. 

He couldn’t want her. He shouldn’t want her. He was the servant. The dog. And the fact that he’d dared touch her should’ve been enough to warrant those hands be cut off and never grown back. 

Yet still all through this particular absence he imagined her calling him to her bed. He imagined putting those same hands on her again. 

She returned from her trip, it was morning and he was awake, he heard her car drive up. But he did not go see her. 

Yes, he was a coward. 

Hours crept by. There was an itch building up under his skin. Perhaps it was longing, or loathing. He hated himself for being so pathetic. He hated her for being so unaffected. He decided he was unworthy of serving her, given how gracious she’d been about his transgressions. 

As he so often did when she was away, he clawed at his own face and remembered her body pressed up against his. How her breasts had felt in his hands. He sunk his nails deeper, ripping out muscle and sinew. 

There was nothing left of him but shreds of bloody flesh when he sensed her calling him. He immediately reformed himself. The sting of the wounds abruptly left him and he found himself missing it. 

He could not recall what it felt like to have a constant body. Or to be anything but an amorphous, malleable creature. Even so, sometimes he was sorry for it. 

He appeared to her in her office. She was leaning on her desk facing away from him. Watching the moon as it hung high above the sky. It’d been that long since she’d returned, he realized and was immediately and irrationally angry with himself for not greeting her. She, who was his master. 

Finally she turned to him, a half smile on her face. “Where have you been hiding away?”

He only then remembered to kneel. “Downstairs, Master.” 

He tried to count the days and realized it had been months since they were last sprawled out on her bedroom floor. He repressed the urge to cringe into himself in humiliation. 

“Did you have a good trip Integra?” He asked mechanically. Somehow there was no edge of malice to his voice. 

There was the sweet smell of perfume lingering about her. He inhaled deeply and thought he could just catch the echo of something else underneath, of someone else, but he couldn’t be sure. 

“Yes, thank you. I trust everything went along smoothly in my absence?”

_ I lost track of the number of times I tore into my own skin. _“Yes everything was fine.”

She folded her arms. “Walter told me he hasn’t caught sight or word of you except to send you on a hunt.”

“I had no need to speak to an aging butler.” The words came out pettier than he had meant them. He was losing composure. 

She nodded. But the silence grew between them. “Are you alright Alucard?”

_ Yes. No. I want you. _ At last he settled on, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been quiet lately.” The pleasant facade was slowly falling away from her voice. There was a challenge underneath. 

He lowered his head, hair falling into his face. “I am fine. You are kind to be concerned. Master.”

“I think you’ve been sulking.” Ah. There was that cold edge.

She pushed away from the desk. “I expect better from you.”

His lip curled into a smile. “And why would you ever do that?”

She’d begun to circle him. Like a predator waiting for the opportune moment to strike. “Because you’re five centuries old.”

“And what expectations would you have, given my age?” His hands were trembling. But it was not for fear or excitement. He did not know what it was. 

“Enough respect that you would not spy on me.” 

Despite whatever his state of mind, his voice still came out simpering and coy. “I don’t think I know what you’re talking about, Master.”

“Fine. Play dumb.” She laughed, reaching into her suit pocket for a cigar. She brought it to her lips and lit it. He found himself jealous of the thing. “Dodge questions. I don’t care. Just obey your orders and know that I will not tolerate any foolishness or drop in your performance.”

“I wouldn’t dream of going against you.”

She looked at him levelly. A cloud of smoke escaped her lips. There was contemplation in her gaze. “I’m seeing someone. I’ve invited him to the manor this coming weekend.”

Somehow he managed not to betray any reaction. “Congratulations.” He said smoothly. 

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“I am but your humble servant Integra. Your mistakes are not mine to judge.” He felt that itch beneath his skin again.

“I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

“May I leave?”

She arched an eyebrow but nodded her assent. 

Again he thought he caught disappointment laced in her gaze, but he was gone too quickly to really consider it. He’d retreated to the basement once again. He was a coward. Such a coward. 

He had thought he wanted her to just say it. But no. Somehow having the words out in the open made it so much worse. It made it real. 

And it weren’t as if he hadn’t already known. 

There’d never been a question of _ if _ she had a lover. But apparently there had been. Somehow he’d been hoping it was not true. That eventually she would confront him and laugh at his suspicions. Or that like that other time she would mock him for his childishness and then tell him it had been nothing. 

He buried his head in his hands. Perhaps he'd be lucky and she would have no need of him until then. Perhaps he could sleep through the entire week. The visit. Everything. 


	5. Chapter 5

And he did sleep, but not nearly for as long as he’d wanted. It had been several days or several hours, he did not want to know how long. But he felt that familiar tug that meant his master required his presence somewhere. And that was not something he could ignore. 

She was having dinner at her desk, as she so often did. He’d tell her she overworked herself but they hardly spoke anymore. He wondered if it bothered her at all

It was difficult to accept that it had really been months. That such a silly, stupid thing had driven such a wedge between them. Every time they’d drifted further apart, he always thought it would only be temporary. This was a fairly frequent happening, unfortunately. In the beginning they’d been near inseparable. 

He remembered some time before, when  they had been far closer than they were now, she’d looked at him once with curiosity. Her head in his lap while he quietly stroked her hair. 

“In my studies they say only virgins can become vampires.” 

He’d nodded. 

“You had wives. And children.” Her gaze was almost accusatory. 

“That’s true,” he laughed. 

“How?”

“Sometimes it is enough to be a coward. To fear God, to fear death, and to want to wash one’s hands of it all. The blood came to me, and I did not want to die, so I drank it.” 

“That does sound cowardly.”

He’d cringed inwardly. But it was true. 

“I can’t imagine you afraid.”

The hand in her hair had moved to cup her cheek. “But that’s because I have nothing to fear serving such a powerful Master.”

“What nonsense.” She swatted his hand away but she was giggling, sufficiently distracted. 

He tried to imagine Integra now, cold and reserved as she was, lying her head in his lap and he failed. He imagined touching her so casually and his gut twisted with sickening want. 

She finally glanced up at him then, and smiled slightly. he wondered if she ever missed the companionship they used to have. How uncomplicated it used to be. In those days, she was his master, he belonged to her, and neither of them needed anyone else.

“I have a mission for you. I suspect you might enjoy it but it’s a tricky one,” she nodded at the file sitting on her desk. “This vampire seems to be exceptionally violent, which is why I will not be sending human reinforcements at all.”

She briefed him on it while he flipped through the file. The explanations did not take long but he asked her questions just to keep her talking anyway. Just to hear her voice, really. But he eventually ran out of things he might ask clarification for, things she might tell him more about. So she went back to her own work, and he had to leave. 

As soon as he was out in the field, destroying the host vampire’s ghouls, he found he could hardly derive any of the usual enjoyment from it. It was a chore. All the carnage and bloodshed and it meant precisely nothing to him. He plunged his hand into a fledgling vampire’s throat, ripping out meat and sinew. All he felt was disgust at the mess it had left on his gloves. And then a strange emptiness when even that crumbled into dust. Midian kills were so unsatisfying. 

Eventually he just stopped and waited to see what it was the last few stragglers would do. There were still a few handfuls of ghouls, still the one host vampire (which Integra had described as “particularly violent,”) The night suddenly seeming so very quiet without the sounds of the Casull piercing the air. So he waited in this forest where the tree branches rustling in the wind was suddenly the loudest noise.

His target had apparently fallen back in hiding to see what  _ he _ would do. And Alucard chose to do nothing. He knew the nature of vampires. With the threat and promise of violence he posed, the creature would eventually seek him out. Even if it knew that would mean certain death— because of it. All vampires were the same in that way. They did not understand retreating to save themselves. Survival simply was not part of their natural instincts anymore. 

And he was right. After a few more beats, the ghouls resurfaced, almost curiously. They poked around the clearing he’d chosen to wait in at a careful distance away. Apparently satisfied more of them returned, followed by the host, ready to confront him at last apparently. The creature had not shown its face until then. Alucard didn’t much care to look at it either. Everything about this was unsatisfying. 

He let the ghouls and vampires attempt to destroy him, over and over. He imagined they were ripping apart his willful nature. his jealousy. His wanting. He lay limp on the ground and let a disgusting maggot of a vampire think it was killing him. It was only what he deserved. 

He remained limp, only regenerating occasionally. But still there was that darkness in him that even this creature could not claw out. When he finally grew bored with the endeavor he simply plunged his hand through the vampires chest and ripped out the heart. He crushed it but the resulting spurt of dead blood was less than satisfying. 

On a whim he did the same to himself. It was coldly painless as he ripped open his own chest, pulling apart his ribs. He lay on the ground in a puddle of mud and gore and he bit into his own heart. The metallic taste of blood filling his mouth, but giving him no sustenance. He gazed up at the sky and realized it was beautiful, even without the moon out. 

It was soothing. Somewhat. He returned with a certain serenity he did not have before. Having reassured himself of his own place at Integra’s feet. He was nothing. Why had he ever thought otherwise?

He sought out Integra to personally report back on his mission. 

She looked at him oddly, “You’re only just getting back?”

“I had to ascertain that every last threat was taken care of, Master,” he replied happily. She did not look convinced. Good. He knew she would never let him slack off, she would always make sure that he was doing his duty to her correctly. 

“Why did it take that long?”

“I only wanted to be thorough.”

She looked at him with a frown but shrugged. “All right. Well done.”

Integra turned back to her desk, already forgetting that he was there. Just as it should be. Just as it would always be.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. 

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, steadier this time. 

“What for?”

He only lowered his head, hair falling into his eyes. 

“It’s alright,” she replied after a moment. 

“I’ll do better.”

“Alucard—“ she began, but cut off suddenly. He waited for her to say more but she didn’t. 

He wondered what it looked like to her, his lopsided obsession— though he adored his master and was devoted to her in every way, he’d never dare call this wretched thing he felt for her love. She must be aware of enough but did she know just how pathetic he was?

His breath caught at the tentative brush of her hand on his cheek. He blinked hard to compose his face, to contain his reaction, then drew back quickly. Her touch might as well have scorched him. 

“I shouldn’t keep you any longer,” he said briskly, only meeting her eyes for a moment. 

She nodded, expressionless. “Goodnight.”

He soon returned to his coffin with the taste of his own blood still coating his tongue. (vampire blood never tasted quite the same as human) On a whim he tore into his wrist and drank more; ouroboros in his miserable dungeon cell. He fell asleep like that, the wounds eventually closing on their own. 

He was not disturbed for several more days. and foolishly, he thought he might sleep through the weekend as well. But he felt it. Immediately he felt it, and how could he sleep after that?

Alucard knew the cadence and rhythm of every heartbeat in the manor. He knew the precise weight of their footfalls. The particular tones of every voice. He made it his duty to know these things, to be aware of them. 

So it was painfully clear when an interloper joined their midst. There was a heart that beat out of time with the rest, barely audible under the purr of an engine pulling up to the grounds. 

He told himself he did not want to know her lover’s identity. Let it remain a mystery. An unreal fuzzy idea. Seeing them together made it real. He did not want to know. There was no reason to know. 

Still he cast out his senses but instead of focusing on the car, on the unknown variable he wished would just remain unknown, he focused on his master. 

She was in her room, restlessly rearranging her hair. She looked excited. She looked her age, and for once she looked  _ happy _ . He bit his lip, drawing blood. 

He should be glad for her. But he was too much of a selfish, jealous creature. No, all he felt was bitterness that she was so excited to see a stranger. 

He caught murmurs of the staff, gossiping as they did their work. She was meeting Sir Islands nephew of all people. Frederick Islands. He didn’t think he’d ever heard a duller name. 

One of the maids said they looked_ cute_ together. 

He told himself again that he would not look. He would not. He would not watch them. He tore into his own flesh again, and bled until his consciousness faded. 


	6. Chapter 6

Somehow, he could still hear that heartbeat. And the sound of it accompanied him in his sleep. His dreams were far from easy. Feverish images, Integra laughing. Integra happy. Bright and alive and oh so carefree. 

Even in this dream, his hands were stained with blood, dripping with it. And he knew that if she were happy, if there was nothing she needed him to protect her from, to kill and maim in her name, there would be no place for him in her world. She wouldn’t spare him a second glance if she didn’t need to. And why should she? 

She was wearing a pale blue dress by the beach. The sun shining on her hair. She stepped into the water, and soon waded in further and further until she was nothing more than a speck on the horizon. 

The tides churned to the rhythm of the heartbeat. 

Alucard woke only just after nightfall, the taste of sea salt on his tongue, his head strangely foggy. Not enough time had passed, but he could not bring himself to sleep any more. The dreams were… silly. Embarrassing even in their single mindedness. The extent of his jealousy irritated him. But there was nothing to be done about that. 

He remembered all the things she’d said about him. That he was ridiculous, childish, silly, wreckless, immature, thoughtless… the list went on. Even when she had been alone and fragile enough to want him for companionship, when they had been close at all, Integra had always been acutely award of how weak he was. Of the many, many ways he failed her. He pictured her voice and the way she would half smile when he’d especially disappointed her, as if you say “Why did I ever think I could expect better of you?” 

It wasn’t long before he made his way to her room. He did so blindly and without much more thought beyond the sudden overwhelming urge to see her. He didn’t even care that the boy might very likely be there with her. 

Her image was so clear in his mind that he blinked when he materialized in the shadows and she did not look exactly the same. 

She was laying in bed, propped up by a few pillows. The room was dim, only one lamp flipped on, sitting on her nightstand. Despite this, she hadn’t taken off her glasses, and she was staring intently at a small stack of papers in her hands. Even now she was working. The picture was so normal that it almost gave him a sense of relief. But the other pieces soon fell into place. 

Her hair was so long spilling over her shoulders that he didn’t at first realize she didn’t seem to be wearing anything. Then he noticed the arm casually draped over her waist. And then the second person lying beside her. 

He shouldn’t be watching this. He absolutely shouldn’t be. He grit his teeth and turned away, but not before he saw her laugh at something that Islands boy said. Not before she sighed as that hand crept up her abdomen to fondle her breast. 

It wasn’t until much later that Alucard wondered why he hadn’t heard a word they were saying. He’d heard her laugh, but no distinct words beyond a soft murmur. Something was wrong with his senses, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

That night he was sent out on a hunt. It was Walter that had briefed him. According to him, Integra was “momentarily indisposed” but she’d left clear instructions. Alucard had only nodded numbly, he was well aware of how busy his Master was. 

This time he was accompanied by a team, because Integra did not trust him. He was pleased by her shrewdness. She would make certain that he did right by her, because she knew him for what he was, and she knew there could be no relying on him. 

The night was waning by the time they’d arrived at their destination. An overgrown patch of undeveloped land overlooking an old cemetery— a fitting haunt for a vampire. 

The soldiers fanned out to destroy the ghouls while he went on to locate the main target. He was not displeased with the task. The battle cleared his head. It gave him a sense of purpose, and something to think about beyond his own festering jealousy. For a moment there was nothing but the thrill of the hunt, the predatory glee of letting the enemy think it had gotten an upper hand. 

He enjoyed playing with his kills. So as per usual, Alucard let the vampire sink its teeth into him, ripping out his throat. He let the creature tear him apart. It was nothing… or at least it should’ve been. Any other time he would’ve shrugged it off, but suddenly he found his body was no longer cooperating with him. It was a strange thing. He fell backwards and found that he simply could not get back up again. Every new wound inflicted on him refused to heal. 

For the first time, in a long time, he felt an approximation of fear. The acute, miserable helplessness of not knowing if or when he’d be able to rise again, that he was no longer capable of brushing away this pathetic vampire at his own leisure. It was… it was almost exciting.

But unfortunately nothing more exciting than that transpired. He was disappointed when he witnessed a pair of soldiers approaching, their presence enough to chase away the wary vampire. Apparently it was smart enough to quit while it was ahead. A pity. 

It was more difficult to keep focus while he was bleeding out. He lost touch with his surroundings, including the baffled team of soldiers too afraid to approach him. There was a light breeze in the air, made his wounds sting. 

He faded in and out of consciousness until, to his utter surprise, he sensed his Master’s approach. 

“Is this area clear?” she asked a soldier, in her cool, crisp voice. When had she made it there? Who had alerted her?

“No,” the soldier responded. 

Integra nodded. “I want two men to stay behind, the rest of you are to continue the mission.” He wondered how long it had taken her to dress. Had she been dragged out of bed? Did she resent him for that too?

She turned a wary eye to Alucard on the ground, and knelt by where he was lying. “You haven’t had any blood have you?”

He tried to remember how long it had been since he last fed and realized it must have been well before that first party. All he’d been able to think of since then had been _her_. 

Alucard had survived longer without a drop of blood. But at this point he’d lost track of how many times a day he’d destroyed his own body. How often he pushed this carcass to the point of breaking. Eventually it must’ve gone dormant in response to the stress.

It had been years since his body had ever been so fully out of his control. He remembered being starved and immobile in the basement where Arthur left him. Where Integra had freed him. 

And now it was the perfect opportunity for him to be locked away again. Half the work had already been done for her, he was already in such a similar state. He half wished she would. What was the purpose of a malfunctioning weapon? 

Integra pushed his hair away from his face to get a closer look at him. And apparently he wasn’t  _ as _ immobile as he thought because he could flinch away. Perhaps it was only a psychological response and there was nothing wrong with his physical form at all. 

“Alucard,” she snapped again and he realized he never answered her. His tongue was too heavy to form sounds. She kept touching his face and he could not decide whether it was agony or bliss. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” She sighed and looked to someone that must've been standing out of his line of sight. “We’ll be returning to the manor.”

They were hemming and hawing over how to go about that. He was not much more than a pile of shattered bones and rended meat. 

Finally she shook her head, looking exasperate. She pricked her thumb on his teeth, letting a few drops spill onto his tongue— a monumentally stupid thing to do with unknown vampires nearby but she did not seem afraid. He could not dredge up too much concern either. Delirious as he was, he was certain she must be invincible somehow, impervious to any injury. 

Despite passing the vast majority of his existence without her, he could not picture being without Integra anymore. The world began and ended with her. And so he was certain that no mere vampire could hurt her. 

He was hardly lucid enough to savor the magnificent taste of her blood. The most disappointing part of this night thus far. But his body had begun to knit itself back together, and so they were able to transport his limp form back into her car. It was an awkward task, and he didn’t make it easier, heavy and unresponsive as a corpse. 

She slid in the backseat next to him, a fair distance away so that his blood would not smear her. He distantly wondered if he was ruining the expensive leather of her seats. 

He was hardly conscious for the drive back, unable to even discern whether it was Walter at the wheel. Or if the privacy partition was up.

For her part, Integra was staring out the window, at the empty expanse of darkness beyond it. It was late Saturday night, very nearly Sunday morning. He was distracting her from her… guest. Somehow the thought did not bring with it any reaction. No cringing, no shame, or horror, or bitterness. It was just hollow fact. 

They reached the manor’s private parking garage and he thought that was the end of it. But she waved the driver off, saying she’d help him out of the car herself. 

“Can you walk?” she asked, finally turning to him. 

“I’m not sure.”

She sighed and pushed back her sleeve. She looked so very tired then, and it was with some degree of guilt that he realized that that was just how he liked her best. This was the real Integra, as far as he was concerned: her eyes too weary and mature for her age, hair just vaguely mussed because she couldn’t be bothered to take too long with it, wearing a suit smelling vaguely of cigar smoke. Not some excited girl with a bright smile and her entire life before her. 

He was disgusting; he knew that. 

“Don’t just look at me,” she chided. 

Alucard lowered his head to her wrist and bit down delicately. He immediately retracted his fangs though she did not tell him to— and yet, ever so slowly, he could feel the soothing pleasure of the bite come over her. He felt it in the steadying of her breath, and the way her arm relaxed. Just the very brief contact with his teeth was enough. 

He drank for longer than he likely should’ve, until his body fully healed. Even the smallest nicks and scrapes had smoothed over, and he could feel a nearly lifelike flush over his face. He’d never found out whether Hellsing blood was simply that potent, or perhaps it was the fact that she was his Master. It hardly took a few drops to rejuvenate him, and yet somehow tonight she was allowing him far more than that. He was just too reluctant to give up this small contact. His mouth pressed against her skin, with an adoration close to reverence filling him. 

But finally she pushed him away. “That’s enough.”

She was resting against the chair, head tilted back. “I know I should be angry with you,” she said. “But I’m just relieved your pretty face is back where it should be.”

“ _ Pretty?  _ That’s a new one.” His laughter was so sudden, it startled him. He did not often sample living blood anymore. But it always left him with a strange, stronger sense of his emotions. They were the same obsessions, just… warmer, somehow, richer. He wondered if that was what it had been like to be human, to feel with such intensity. 

“Please. Don’t feign modesty. I know your vanity, and I know you shape your form however you like.” 

His laughter dragged on, feeling more like sobs. “So you find me pleasing,” he managed. 

She scoffed. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Are you playing coy with me, Master?”

She threw him an irritated glance. “No. I don’t play games.” 

He moved closer without thinking, so that he was all but looming over her. He crowded her space, his face only a few inches from hers. 

She gasped. 

He laughed again at the crack in her composure. “What is this, then? I thought you didn’t want me.” The way his eyes stung, he thought he very well might weep. It seemed he was determined to humiliate himself every possible way.

“Of course I want you, idiot.” She did nothing to push away the shaking hand that cupped her face or the other one winding in her hair. 

“Then?” He dared not press his still bloody lips to her skin, but he held her gaze. His thumb traced the slope of her cheekbone. He wanted her anger, her love, her punishment.  _ Something _ . 

“You frighten me,” she said finally, his expression more open than he’d ever seen it. “You hurt me, you know.”

He stilled. “How?” 

“All this time and you only ever say something because you’re jealous? Because you’re worried I'm out of your claws? You’ve made yourself very clear.”

“Integra,” he pleaded. But she was already untangling herself from him, as if awakening from a daze. 

She shook her head. “No.” 

He reached for her arm, desperate. “Please.”

She glanced out the window into the empty parking garage, as if worried someone might see. He’d regained enough of his senses now to be certain it was empty. The driver— no the slowly fading scent of the human made it clear that it most definitely had not been Walter— had known enough to leave them alone. 

“There’s no one here,” he said. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Integra shook her head as if waking from a daze. “If you’re well enough to get up to your tricks. you're well enough to find your own way about.” And with that she exited the car and walked away. 

Alucard only sat there, contemplating her words. And it was all punctuated by that steady, deliberate heart beat.

Whatever else his condition, apparently he was well enough to hear it again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve come to the realization that this fic is basically just Mr Brightside by the Killers


	7. Chapter 7

Alucard did not see her for the rest of the night. He’d wandered through the grounds aimlessly for several hours, reluctant to return to the manor. But he was finally forced to go back at the first signs of daybreak. He was not so restless as to brave the sunrise just yet. 

When he returned to the basement, he discovered there were several blood packets left on ice waiting for him. With the taste of Integra’s blood still fresh in his mind, he practically had to force himself to drink one. This felt like a bitter imitation, having been drawn from the doner long enough ago to have lost all traces of vitality. 

He remembered bringing her wrist to his lips, her pulse thrumming steadily beneath her skin. She’d never let him bite her before, he wondered what had incited that specific recklessness. He certainly hadn’t been deserving any rewards. But then, she’d become rather reckless recently. He hoped she’d do it again. 

He tore into another bag, focusing on the cold, unsavory consistency of it. His mind kept drifting back to that encounter, turning it over and over in his head. 

She’d seemed… almost vulnerable in a way that he didn’t think he’d seen her in a very long time. He remembered years ago, he’d crept into her room one night— he didn’t remember why. It was to make some silly joke, or to bother her with something trite. But he’d found her crying instead and remembered it had been the anniversary of her father’s death. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her cry over it before or since then. 

In those days, the slow growing rift between them had already settled into place. But still she’d let him comfort her. She’d clutched at his hand and wept silently. 

When her tears had run out she’d cleared her throat, wiped her face and adjusted her glasses. And that had been the end of that. 

Perhaps she’d been colder the next day. Or he was just misremembering. He couldn’t be sure anymore. 

__

Integra sat alone in her office, as she so often did, and tried to bite down on the uneasiness that was threatening to swallow her whole. Her father’s desk was piled high with expense reports, medical forms, reconnaissance, FREAK profiles… the list went on. None of her soldiers had been killed this time, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a body count. There had to be a body count for Hellsing to be called in. 

Black ink on white paper, spelling out so much death. It was all around her, rendered into the driest, most tedious possible language. As if that would somehow make their work less monstrous. Sometimes she wondered if it’d be more fitting to write in blood. 

But that was simply melodramatic. 

Dawn had not hardly crested the sky when Walter served her tea on a delicate silver tray. A fragrant Yunnan, perfectly prepared, as everything the butler touched tended to be. Integra often wondered if he ever rested, if he even slept. He never seemed tired or without his usual polish. 

Integra had seen him wield his garrote wires with just as much grace. Once she’d watched him kill a man— not a vampire, just a man. That had been before her father died. She’d been twelve years old and hadn’t even bothered to ask why, she’d just assumed it was for the best. And frankly, she still did. 

Walter could line the front door with severed heads and she’d assume he had a good reason for it. 

He smiled at her politely and asked if she required anything else. 

“No, thank you,” she replied, her own smile nowhere near as smooth. Among all the other things, there was a sealed envelope addressed to her sitting on her desk. No sender information but she knew it was from the Round Table. And she knew what it was about. Word really did get out fast. 

Walter nodded and excused himself. She almost asked him to stay, and keep her company. They were both of them murderers, but she’d never stopped clutching at his coattails like a child. 

Even after all these years she still felt young and uncertain sitting at her father's desk. Like she was playing an especially bloody game of pretend. 

Death clung to them all. Alucard, Walter, herself, even the staff, who had become oh so adept at filling each other’s duties following a colleague’s abrupt passing. 

Meanwhile her friends (she did not have friends) still spent their time sneaking behind their parents’ backs. They still made excuses for where they spent the night. 

She eyed the envelope again and was of half a mind to just ignore it until the next day. She could crawl back into bed. She could pretend it was a dream. 

But no, there was work to do. And there was a stranger in her bed. She’d almost forgotten about him. 

Fred was nice, glib and a little too confident for his own good, which was endearing. He made her laugh. Best of all his mouth did not reek of blood and he did not constantly speak of death. Which was more than she could say about most of them in the manor. But he was still a stranger.

She’d thought it would be more proper to let him stay in her room. But it seemed awkward now. She was at an age where it _ felt _ more appropriate to be kissing in the back seat of a car, but that was also silly when she clearly had no reason to do so. 

It was embarrassing to think that she didn’t know what to do. How to even approach seeing someone. How did people… date? Even thinking that to herself was mortifying. 

Integra lit a cigar and wondered what it was like to have friends. To go to the movies or gossip about silly things.

She always chided herself for thinking about such trifles, but the thoughts crept in anyway. Regardless of the ungodly hour, or that her weariness was bone deep. 

There was so much work to be done. 

She would always feel uncomfortable in her own skin; there would be a lifetime to complain about it. For now she had other obligations. 

__

It was well into the evening by the time Integra called him into her office. 

She had not since slept. How could she have? But from the ever present shadows that had darkened the manor throughout the day, she doubted that he had either. Things were certainly more peaceful when Alucard slept. His consciousness brought an uneasy pall with it, though truthfully she hardly noticed it anymore. In fact sometimes, if she were away from him for several days, _ that _ was what threw her off.

Any time she went on holiday, she would always wonder at how easier it was to breathe. As if she’d stepped out into the fresh air following a lifetime indoors. As if just being near him was enough to put her chest in a vise’s grip. All the same, it was a familiar sensation, almost comfortable. 

She didn’t know how she felt about that. 

Alucard took his time answering her summons. And when she did finally feel his presence, she still could not see him. In her periphery, she thought she saw a web of red eyes blinking back at her. It seemed he was up to his usual dramatics again, so she did not acknowledge him. Did not even look up from her paperwork. 

Between sleeplessness, an incessant headache, and faint dizziness from blood loss, she was _ not _ in the mood for whatever he had in mind. So she waited until he saw fit to approach her properly. Until he materialized before her desk, casting a shadow over her. 

“My Master wished to see me?” 

Finally, she set aside the report she’d been pretending to read. As unflappable as she hoped to appear, it was difficult to concentrate with him looming over her. Not that concentration had been easy to begin with, it was a struggle to keep her eyes open. 

“We have to talk about your stunt last night.”

“And what is there to talk about?” he replied amiably. He was not wearing his glasses, but his smile was no less inscrutable for it.

Integra had expected as much from him. But it didn’t mean she was looking forward to this conversation either. “What happened?”

“I’m sure you have the soldiers’ reports on it.”

“I want to hear from you. You were in pieces in the middle of a hunt.”

“It won’t happen again,” was all he had to say. 

“That’s not the point,” she said, attempting to clamp down on her growing frustration. “You put the entire team in jeopardy. I have two men wounded, suffering from minor injuries but that is only thanks to _ their _ competence.” 

“Then it seems to be settled, doesn’t it?” 

“What? No, far from it. Now I have to go and cover for you. I trust my soldiers, but there are eyes everywhere. Word is going to get out.” She laughed humorlessly. “And what can I even say? That you’re weak? That you disobey me? That you just weren’t feeling up to the work that night?”

She saw him wince and half regretted her words. His pride had likely been plenty wounded by whatever had really happened. But he only shrugged as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “You could say any number of those things I suppose.” 

“No matter how bloody thick you might act, I _ know _ that you know better. Public opinion matters.”

Alucard was silent. 

“How you act reflects on me. If it seems like there’s any danger of my not being able to control you…” she trailed off, expression grim.

For the most part she had free reign to do as she pleased, but she was always acutely aware of how tenuous her situation truly was, especially with regards to her vampire. Integra didn’t like to ponder these things, but it couldn’t be helped: Alucard was _ dangerous _, but he provided an incredible advantage against other vampires. It was that reason alone that allowed her to keep him on without any objections from the Round Table. Things would be radically different should he begin to seem like a liability.

Finally she said, “I’m taking you out of the field.”

His eyes widened a fraction. “You can’t.” 

“You don’t question my orders. _ Especially _ not right now.” 

“No,” he said, voice still too pleasant. “Of course not.”

She sighed before slipping off her glasses and looking up at him. “Just give me an explanation. Anything. What were you thinking?”

“Clearly, I wasn’t thinking at all.” 

“Damn it Alucard, I am _ tired _. Tired of your childishness, and your sulking, and your games. Sometimes I wonder if you’re more trouble than you’re worth.” She didn’t mean it. She truly didn’t. But she’d long since run out of patience, and he never made anything easy. 

Moments ticked by in strained silence. He made no move to argue any further, or leave. She rose to her feet. 

“And what about you,” he said suddenly, turning toward her. The room had gone colder. 

She did not reply, only raised her eyebrows at him, arms crossed. 

“Did you enjoy yourself, Master?”

“Excuse me?” 

“I doubt you invited that boy for three nights just to talk finances. Frankly I’m surprised you left your bed at all.”

“Is that _ really _ all you think about? This is not about how I spend my time, or your petty jealousy.”

His smile only grew. “Tell me, is it really any surprise that things fall to pieces when our Sir Hellsing is so preoccupied?”

“Do _ not _ turn your weaknesses on me.” They were face to face now. Close enough that she could see the weariness behind his mocking smile as he looked down at her. Why did he keep doing this? 

“But is it my weakness? If a dog is badly trained, wouldn’t you look to poor handling by the owner?” There was desperation or something like it creeping into his voice. He took another step towards her, and after a moment she backed away. They continued like this until her back hit the wall. 

His eyes were always far too red. Though she found herself staring him down more often than she liked these days, every time she was still taken aback by the color, so vibrant and bloody. 

“You are not a dog,” she said finally. 

“Then what am I?” 

She’d always been inordinately offended at his height. And as a child, she used to make him kneel when addressing her. She was almost tempted to that now. “Old enough to know better than to act like this.” 

“Is that all?” His shadows had begun pooling inside the room. But from how intently he was looking at her, she didn’t think it was intentional. 

She swallowed her unease. “You’re my responsibility.”

“And?” He was nosing at her neck, obviously to get a rise out of her, and she had no intention of indulging him.

“My burden.” She’d spoken in annoyance but he seemed pleased with her response. 

“Yes.” It was more of a sigh. 

“My _ failure _.”

His cold lips on her skin sent a shock through her..

“My cruel, lovely Master. Your honesty cuts me, and I adore it.”

Integra struggled to think of a quick reply. Her heart was beating too hard. And from the way he laughed under his breath, he’d noticed. 

“Are you truly afraid of me Integra?”

She was unsettled for a moment, before she remembered what she’d said to him in the car and cursed herself for it. She’d already— foolishly— voiced the thought, he was not actually plucking it from her mind “I just had to mop you up off the floor not twenty four hours ago. Of course not.”

He rested a hand over her heart. “Then what is this?”

Despite herself she shivered at the touch. “I could count for you everything I’m feeling right now— exhaustion, impatience, disappointment, irritation. Did I mention exhaustion? Fear is not among them.” 

Alucard did not reply. All the same, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d lost some sort of power play, a challenge between them she hadn’t known about to begin with. 

He trailed up the vulnerable flesh of her throat. It was a nice feeling, so easy to melt into. And she let herself enjoy it for a moment. _ Only _ a moment, she told herself. 

One hand still rested over her heart, witness to its increasingly skittering rhythm. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. 

Integra rested her head against the wall, sighing into his touch. She knew better. She really did. But when he brushed his lips against hers, she did not pull away. 

It was a dizzying thing. And for a moment she almost forgot all her other worries, or that she’d been angry with him just earlier. 

He kissed her like a starved creature. Not a hint of sweetness to it. She felt the graze of sharp teeth, just light enough not to break skin. 

“Make him leave,” he said, in the space between their lips. 

“What?”

“Send him away. Don’t see him again.”

She started laughing then, suddenly. The sound surprised even herself. Bitterness laced her words. “This is all just one long tantrum, isn’t it?”

“Master—“

“You just do this any time I try to form any connection, or any time I start to build a life for myself outside of you: you kick up a fuss. You make me focus on you.”

She pushed him away roughly. His sullen expression told her everything she needed to know. 

When she’d been thirteen she’d started bringing a friend home and he frightened her away. When she’d tried to continue her schoolwork he’d gone on and on about safety that she’d finally conceded to having tutors brought to the manor instead. Anytime she’s reached out to anyone, it had always ended badly. 

The parties she hosted, the people she invited, they were always here for business. They were always people she loathed. Wasn't that because he scared away anyone she actually got along with? 

It was stunning in retrospect, realizing how he'd consistently isolated her for so long. 

“Were you like this with my father too? When he married?” As soon as she asked the question she realized that Alucard hadn’t been around for the majority of her parents’ marriage. “Was _ that _ why he locked you away?” 

He offered no reply. 

She’d never been given a straightforward answer. Walter had been tight lipped about it, only saying that Arthur had begun to worry that Alucard was becoming too willful. That her father had actually _ feared _ him. 

Integra remembered being younger, thinking of her silly vampire, with his bad jokes and floppy hat and finding the idea of anyone fearing him preposterous. 

“_ Is it _?” 

“I think you’ve already decided on your narrative Master.” Oh fantastic, he was pouting now. 

“Don’t bother trying to play martyr with me.” 

“Will anything I say matter?”

“No. I suppose not,” she replied, voice frosty. 


End file.
